


Say it Again

by heyitscmei



Series: Sheith Week Unlimited 2k17 [3]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Earth, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Future Fic, M/M, Post-War, Sheith Week Unlimited 2017, could also be read as
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-29
Updated: 2017-01-29
Packaged: 2018-09-20 14:14:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,358
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9495083
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heyitscmei/pseuds/heyitscmei
Summary: “Say it again?” Shiro asks, flopping onto their couch and draping himself across Keith’s lap. Keith smiles fondly down at him, placing his book aside in favour of running fingers through that tuft of hair.“Say what again?” Keith asks, feigning innocence.“You know what.” Keith smiles, brushing Shiro’s hair back before leaning down to capture Shiro’s mouth in a kiss.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Sheith Week Unlimited  
> Day 3: One Last Time

Shiro’s watching him the first time he says it, listening intently. Keith pauses to see how the words taste in his mouth. To feel the way they roll off his tongue. It’s a combination he’s not used to.

It’s a combination he could _get_ used to.

“I like the way it sounds,” Shiro says, grinning.

“You’re also biased,” Keith points out.

“Maybe, but it doesn’t change the fact that I like it when you say it.”

“You’re sappy.”

“Mhm,” Shiro hums, pressing himself against Keith’s back and looping strong arms around him.  “Say it again?”

“Last time,” Keith says, rolling his eyes, but he repeats it, if only to see the absolute sheer delight on Shiro’s face when he does.

 

* * *

 

The next time Shiro asks him to say it, they’re folding laundry. The bed is a mess of hangers and shirts and unpaired socks and _Shiro_ , because Shiro is just lying there being tremendously unhelpful.

“Baby, fold the pants,” Keith demands, though his tone is much too warm to sound stern.

“Can I hear you say it again first?”

“Only one more time, but I’ll say it after I can see the bed again,” Keith offers.

“Deal.” Shiro folds the pants and helps pair the socks, but not before lobbing a few balled up pairs at Keith lovingly, telling him that, like the socks, they make a perfect pair. It’s incredibly lame and sappy, but Keith laughs anyways.

Naturally, he retaliates by tossing them back at Shiro until Shiro opens up the drawer where their socks belong. Then they compete to see who can get the most pairs in.

When the bed is clear again, save for rumpled sheets that neither of them care enough to correct, Keith rewards Shiro with a kiss, whispering the words Shiro loves to hear against soft lips.

He smiles into the next kiss Shiro presses to his mouth.

 

* * *

 

Keith straightens from where he’s been hunched over their garden. Or at least, the start of what’s going to be their garden. The stretch feels nice after bending over dirt and arranging plants for so long, empty pots set aside for future use.

He’s contemplating the best places to put each pot in their new home once they’ve gotten soil and seeds, pulling dirty gardening gloves off slim fingers, when Shiro comes out and presses a cold water bottle into sweaty hands.

“It’s looking a lot brighter out here,” he comments, admiring the vibrant flower petals and rich green leaves, roots nestled neatly in rich soil.

“Yeah,” Keith agrees. “How’s the garden in the back coming along?”

“Just about done,” Shiro responds with a smile. “It was worth it.”

Keith nods at that. He wipes a sweaty palm against Shiro’s shoulder playfully and laughs at Shiro’s exaggerated mock disgust before twisting the bottle cap and taking a long drink, reveling in the cold feel of it rushing through his dry mouth.

“Can I see it?”

“Of course you can,” Shiro says. “It’s your garden too.”

“I’m just giving you a chance to fix anything up before you try to impress me,” Keith teases.

“And what if I do manage to impress you?” Shiro asks playfully. “Do I get to hear you say it again?”

“Again?”

“One more time.”

“You never get tired of hearing it, do you?” Keith asks, shaking his head in fond amusement.

“From you? Never.”

He’s quite proud of Shiro’s work and rewards him with those words again as he crouches to carve their names into the wood framing their garden.

He turns when Shiro crouches next to him, watching the slow, soft smile that spreads across Shiro’s face as he traces a metal finger over the letters.

It’s brighter than the flowers, blindingly radiant in its unabashed delight.

Keith can’t help but smile too. Especially when, later on, Keith turns the hose away from the garden and onto Shiro, spraying him and starting an impromptu water war in their backyard.

 

* * *

 

They’re rearranging their books, trying to force some semblance of organization into their bookshelves, - “Are we arranging these by genre or alphabetically?” - when Shiro asks him next.

Keith’s arranging the science fiction together and reciting the alphabet in his mind over and then again. He’s got old books, worn and loved, and new books tucked into the crook of his arm, placing each one carefully in it’s new place.

Shiro, on the floor surrounded by old, nostalgic fantasy books that Keith remembers he used to love, makes him lose track of the alphabet when he asks, “Will you tell me again when we’re done?”

“Sure, but this is the last time,” Keith says. “Same as always?”

“Yeah,” Shiro says, grinning in a way that reminds Keith of princes in fairy tales and storybook heroes. “Or you could say it differently. How do you feel about old-timey speech? You could sound like a prince in one of these books.” Shiro gestures largely to the mess of paperbacks and hardcovers scattered across the floor.

“You’ll have to wait and see, your royal highness,” Keith says teasingly. “These books aren’t sorting themselves.”

“Where’s the castle staff when you need them?” He hears Shiro jokingly grumble from the floor.

“I’ll kiss all your paper cuts later,” Keith promises.

He does, though there aren’t many of them. It doesn’t stop him from kissing at each of Shiro’s fingertips. And when he says those words again, knelt in front of where Shiro sits, in his best impression of old-timey speech, he takes pride in the full-bodied laugh it pulls out of the other man. He laughs too, and let’s Shiro pull him down into his arms on the floor.

“That was awful,” Shiro gasps.

“I don’t know...” Keith grins. “I think I did a pretty good job of sweeping you off your feet.”

“Even though we’re both on the floor?”

“We’re not on our feet.”

“I see your point,” Shiro concedes. “Consider me swept.”

The following kiss is sweeter than the cooling hot chocolate that sits next to the books they left abandoned on the coffee table, only partially reread.

 

* * *

 

Keith is reading, waiting for Shiro to finish washing the dishes because it’s his turn to. He doesn’t look up from his book when Shiro enters the living room, but he doesn’t get much more reading done because soon there are slightly damp fingers brushing hair away from his face

“Say it again?” Shiro asks, flopping onto their couch and draping himself across Keith’s lap. Keith smiles fondly down at him, placing his book aside in favour of running fingers through that tuft of hair.

“Say what again?” Keith asks, feigning innocence.

“You know what.” Keith smiles, brushing Shiro’s hair back before leaning down to capture Shiro’s mouth in a kiss.

“I don’t think I recall. You might have to remind me.”

“Five words at the least,” Shiro prompts, “Two of them are your name.”

“My name?”

“ _Keith_.”

“It looks like you already know it, though,” Keith says impishly.

“One last time.”

“One last time?”

“Cross my heart and hope to die.”

“You’re not dying on me that easily, Flyboy,” Keith says, hand drifting down Shiro’s cheek to the curve of his jaw. He traces his thumb along Shiro’s bottom lip.

“Gotcha,” Shiro says. He feels Shiro kiss at the tip of his thumb and feels a tender fondness warming him from the inside out.

“Alright, last time,” Keith murmurs, giving Shiro a false stern look.

“Alright,” Shiro agrees with a small nod, smiling up at him brightly. Keith can’t really tell if this will actually be the last time. He recalls the last handful of times also being the ‘last time’.

He doesn’t think it’s the last time and he doesn’t actually mind if it’s not.

How could he mind, when Shiro always smiles at him like that? When such simple words make him so incredibly happy?

He can’t. He doesn’t.

He’d keep saying it as many times as Shiro wants if it means Shiro will always smile like that, because Keith knows there’s something almost devastatingly beautiful about Shiro’s smile.

“My name is Keith,” Keith says, looking directly into warm grey eyes. “Keith Shirogane.”

**Author's Note:**

> idk what happened here it was such a good prompt for angst but then almost 1400 words later it was all domestic fluff ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ 
> 
> unbeta'd


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